Don't Apologize
by Tap Dancin On A Land Mine
Summary: Saying that Matthew did not like storms would be like saying deer did not like cars. And that's exactly how the thunder affected Matthew; he froze. Alfred is well aware of this, and fulfills his brotherly - and heroic - duty of protecting Matthew.


Hello, dear reader, and welcome to my first-ever Hetalia story! Well, technically this is my second Hetalia story, but the first one isn't done yet, as this little story wrote itself in my head and rudely demanded to be put on paper while I was trying to work on the other one.

And I know the idea of friends comforting each other during a storm is overdone, but Canada's so cute...

I thought America was kinda OOC, but a couple of friends have told me he's not, so I'll take their word for it I guess.

I tried to fix all the typos, but if there's a "g" or a "t" missing anywhere, or if there are extra ones, it's because those two keys on my keyboard are messed up and I missed it. SORRY!

And when I uploaded this, it took all the spaces out of all the italics parts. I think I put them all back, but if I missed or misplaced any, I apologize.

OH! This is NOT a Canada _x_ America story; it's a Canada America story. brotherly love only.

_**XxXxXxXxXxX**_

Rain lashed at the windows, a ferocious hissing and spitting sound, like some monstrous cat letting lose a warning before sinking its teeth into its aggravator's leg, and Matthew knew the bite would come soon enough. He cringed violently when the flash of lightning lit his bedroom even through the dark curtains he'd been sure to draw tightly closed, and he held his breath to repress a scream as a roar of thunder resounded in his ears. He exhaled with a pitiful dry sob, hands clamped tight over his ears and eyes shut tight, desperate to block out the raging storm.

_It's __only __a __storm_, he told himself angrily, over and over. _It's __only __a __storm, __Matthew, __it's __just __weather, __it __can't __hurt __you. __It __can't __hurt __you, __so __stop __your __worthless __sniveling._

His mantra failed him, however, when another clap of thunder sent him jumping practically out of his skin and a few traitor tears slipped down his cheeks. He wiped them away hastily, sniffling softly and wrapping his arms tightly around his torso in a futile attempt at keeping himself from trembling. Squeaks of terror escaped his throat with every clap of thunder, and one or two soft, strangled screams wrestled their way out of his chest, despite his best efforts to silence them. He cringed further into the corner of his bedroom, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them, tears flowing freely down his face, soft sobs racking his frame as he prayed for the rain to stop.

But the weather only seemed to get worse, and when Matthew finally forced his eyes up to look at the clock, he realized the power had gone out. Using the wall behind him as a support, he pulled himself slowly to his feet, intent on finding a flashlight. He made it only a few steps away from his spot on the floor, however, as his legs were trembling so badly they would not support his weight. He sank back to his knees and, with another whimper of fear, lowered himself to lie on his side, curled into a tight ball of panic on the floor. A fresh round of sobs tore themselves free with the loudest peel of thunder yet, and he could not stop them even as the thunder began to quiet itself for the moment.

A sudden, distinctly different light and a pressure on his shoulder startled him even further, and he jerked away from the touch.

"I'm sorry," a gentle voice said from above him, barely audible over the barraging rain. "I didn't mean to scare you more."

Matthew forced his eyes open to see Alfred kneeling next to him, battery-operated lantern on the floor next to him, hands held out in front of him to show he had no intent of hurting Matthew.

"Al?" Matthew said shakily, pushing himself off the floor slowly. "What are you d-doing here?"

"You don't like storms," Alfred said softly, the sound a stark contrast to his usually-obnoxious tone. "I came to see if you were okay. I'll take this as a 'no,'" he added as Matthew flinched violently with another clap of thunder. "Come here," he said kindly, pulling Matthew into a gentle embrace. Matthew tried to pull away, but clung tightly to Alfred's form when lightning flashed. He clutched at his stepbrother's shirt, sobbing into his chest.

"How long have you been like this?" Alfred asked.

"I-I don't know," Mattie stammered. "Since the st-storm started, whenever th-that was."

Alfred sighed sadly, rubbing soothing circles into Matthew's back. "That's going on six hours now, Mattie," he admonished gently. "Why didn't you call me? Or Francis, or Arthur, or _someone_?"

"The-" Matthew began, but broke off as another particularly loud peel of thunder sounded. He wrapped his arms around Alfred with surprising force, entirely too still in his stepbrother's arms as he fought to suppress another scream. Alfred knew this trick well; it was something both of them had picked up from Arthur.

"Breathe," Alfred reminded him, softly but urgently. No response. "Mattie," Alfred said gently. "Mattie, it's alright. You're safe. Breathe."

Matthew exhaled in a gust, releasing his vice-like hold around his stepbrother's chest. There was a sizable pause before Matthew chanced to speak.

"The power went out," Matthew finished, as though there had been no interruption.

"You have a cell phone," Alfred reminded him with another sigh. "I should know, I was the one who convinced you to buy it. So you could _call__ me_ when you _needed__ something_, remember?"

"I-I'm sorry, Al."

"Don't apologize, Mattie," Alfred said, tapping his stepbrother lightly on the tip of his nose in reprimand. "Just remember that I am here for you. Always. And so are Francis and Artie. Just say something."

Matthew nodded, not trusting his voice as another flash of light filled the room.

"You're getting better," Alfred noted when his stepbrother did not cringe with the next roar of thunder. Matthew smiled weakly. "C'mon," Alfred said. "Let's get you off the floor."

Alfred got to his feet, holding his hand out for Matthew, who took it gratefully, not sure if he could stand on his own at this point. A hellacious throbbing seized his temples (no doubt brought on by his apparent six hours of crying), and he gasped in pain, losing his balance as he brought a hand to his forehead. Alfred caught him, keeping a firm hold on his stepbrother's waist until his opened his eyes again, and keeping an arm around him as they walked into the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Matthew asked, voice still shaking.

"Your guest room," Alfred said simply. "There are no outside walls in there," he explained when Matthew looked confused. "It won't be as loud."

"...Why didn't in think of that?"

"Because it's my job to think of stuff like that," Alfred said, smiling. "You know, hero and all."

"Whatever floats your boat, Al."

Alfred chuckled softly as he walked over to the bed, at this point only guiding Matthew rather than half-carrying him. He had Matthew take a seat on the bed and turned to close the door, stopping when Matthew grabbed his sleeve, tears in his eyes again. Alfred sat down next to him, cupping his cheek softly with one hand, the other hand holding his stepbrother's securely.

Alfred sat back against the headboard, pulling Matthew into his arms protectively, and Matthew clung to his stepbrother tightly.

"Where did this come from?" Alfred asked. "You were doing so well a second ago."

"You were going to leave," Matthew mumbled, his already-soft voice muffled as he spoke into Alfred's chest. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

"I was just going to close the door, Mattie," Alfred said gently.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Alfred said again, sternly. "You've done nothing wrong."

Matthew nodded, and the two of them were silent until the next crash of thunder, when Matthew flinched yet again.

"It's okay," Alfred said soothingly, running his fingers through his stepbrother's hair with one hand, rubbing consoling circles into his back with the other. "It's okay, Mattie. I'm right here, you're safe."

Matthew lay still against his stepbrother's chest, the sounds of his deep, even breaths calming his frenzied mind better than any relaxation tape. He still cringed occasionally, but the way Alfred's chest vibrated under his ear when he spoke reassuringly lulled him back into peace quickly. Eventually Matthew felt his eyelids beginning to droop.

"Alfred?" he said sleepily.

"Hmmm?"

"...I'm glad you came over tonight."

"Me too, Mattie. Now get some sleep, okay?"

Matthew nodded, a smile forming on his lips for the first time in hours as he let his eyelids slip shut.

_**XxXxXxXxXxX**_

The ending sucks. At least I think it does. If anyone thinks otherwise, please let me know (: Or you can tell me if you agree with me, that's fine too. Just tell me what you think.

Oh, and I wrote this during Hurricane Irene, but didn't realize the irony in that fact until after I'd finished the story.

Thanks for reading!


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